


she's got you

by bukowsking



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - World War II, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes Deserves Better, Bucky Barnes Feels, Childhood Friends, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Multi, Ouch, Patsy Cline - Freeform, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sad Ending, Songfic, Steve doesn't crash the Valkyrie, Unrequited Love, War, fuck steve rogers, the one where bucky doesn't fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22168558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukowsking/pseuds/bukowsking
Summary: the only thing different, the only thing new, i've got these little things... she's got you.orjames buchanan "bucky" barnes is in love with steven grant rogers. enter margaret "peggy" carter.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	she's got you

**Author's Note:**

> based on She's Got You by Patsy Cline. not a huge stucky fan but this has been one of my favorite songs for a while and after analyzing the lyrics it's just... them. i own nothing but the storyline. enjoy xx

Steve Rogers tumbled into Bucky Barnes' life, quite literally. Bucky's sat on the swing set when the gangliest little kid trips over his own two feet and lands face-first in the dirt right next to him. There's a subtle echo of giggles from a group of kids that travels across the play area, but Bucky ignores them to bend down and offer a chubby little hand out to help the boy up. His hair's a shock of blonde against the pallid tone of his skin, and Bucky's hair stands on the ends of his arms when those sea blue eyes focus in on his face. Bucky's Ma had spun a tale of true love and soulmates and all the romantic niceties that were lost on the naivety of a seven year old, but Bucky knew this is what she must have been prattling on about. 

Because ever since that day in the schoolyard, Bucky and Little Stevie Rogers were inseparable. There was nary a moment where the two weren't seen out and about on the town, making trips to Old Man Smith's candy shop and delivering local papers for a nickel. Winnie Barnes and Sarah Rogers were quick to forge a friendship as well, forging playdates for the boys and afternoon teas for themselves. The two women even joked about planning joint weddings far off into the future, and Bucky kept his thoughts on that matter to himself. 

Although Stevie was an entire year and a half older than Bucky, the latter grew to become taller and more muscular than his friend. Not that that stopped Stevie from instigating a good rabble rouse or two, friendly and not friendly. Bucky didn't know if there existed a number high enough for him to count all the times he had to kick some jerk in the keister on Stevie's behalf, but it was no secret that he'd do anything for the little spitfire punk. It was that same brazen confidence that scored Stevie the affection of a few dames throughout their teenage years. What Stevie lacked in looks and stature, he more than made up for in manners and charm. 

Bucky was the subject of a few wistful sighs from gals himself, not that they much piqued his interest. But, homosexuality wasn't something to be embraced in those days, and so he tampered himself down, painted that big, handsome smile on his face, and braved a few fumbling, awkward dates, usually doubles with Stevie and his flavor of the week at the local theater. Now, Bucky's calloused hands, rubbed raw from the passing of years and the things he'd endured, traced over the silver frame encasing that photograph of himself and Stevie on the piers of Coney Island, stunning dames whose names he can't remember on each of their arms.

He swallows thickly, drinking in the sight of his best friend and once-lover a last time before placing it back on his shelf, eyes rimmed red with unshed tears. Fuck.

_ I've got your picture _

_ That you gave to me _

_ And it's signed with love _

_ Just like it used to be _

_ The only thing different _

_ The only thing new _

_ I've got your picture _

_ She's got you _

Tentative first kisses are shared in the dark of night beneath Bucky's covers, as his Ma and his sister slumber on down the hall. Winnie hadn't put up much of a fuss when Steve had asked to sleep over, because there wasn't nothin' wrong with two boys sharing a bed. Bucky laughs to himself at the memory, because he knows just how damn obvious he was and there wasn't no way his Ma hadn't at least expected his proclivities. Regardless, whether it was his Ma's willful ignorance or something else, that night earned him the first real kisses of his life. Tother, Dolores "Dot" Sheeran had been his first kiss, but he didn't much count that on account of him shaking so bad that he'd nearly missed her lips completely and that she wasn't nothing compared to how Stevie felt.

He'd heard whispered titters of people recounting their trysts with experimentation, usually in college, but he was nearly there anyway so what did two years matter? He knew how he felt about Stevie now, and he'd wanted to kiss him  _ now _ . Luckily, he and Stevie had put away about four shots each of his Pa's least expensive, yet somehow most potent, vodka from the front of his liquor cabinet, and the liquid courage thrummer in their veins like fireflies caught in a mason jar. It's fumbling and awkward and  _ perfect _ in every which way.

Their trysts are quarantined to the bedroom, but that doesn't mean they don't take their pleasures wherever they can. Nearly every Friday night little Stevie Rogers, which he would always be addressed as regardless of his age and which annoyed him to no end, and Bucky Barnes could be spotted on the floor of Brooklyn's premier dance hall, twirling their dames but only having eyes for each other. Most gals actually thought it was adorable, the way Steve and Bucky seemed to be so close, but if they knew just how close, there was no doubt in Bucky's mind that they'd be the first ones to start the gossip mill.

It's in this very dance hall that Bucky witnesses his heart get ripped out and stomped on by a six inch heel. Her name is Margaret Carter, Peggy, and her British accent and goddamn beautiful red lips put Stevie under a spell and now Bucky's watching, drunk on alcohol and his fuckin'stupid feelings, as she swoops in and steals his fella away. His back is pressed up against the wall, and there's a pretty little thing tugging on his arm to try to get him to slow dance, all Bucky can do is stare as Stevie and the hussy wrap their arms around each other and sway to a Harry James song.  _ Their _ Harry James song. Bucky remember the scratchy sound of the record player in the background as he instructed Stevie on how not to step on any toes as they moved in the confines of Bucky's room late one night. It ended in soft kisses and heavy petting.

What Bucky wouldn't give to have that night back right now.

_ I've got the records _

_ That we used to share _

_ And they still sound the same _

_ As when you were here _

_ The only thing different _

_ The only thing new _

_ I've got the records _

_ She's got you _

_ I've got your memory _

_ Or, has it got me _

_ I really don't know _

_ But I know, it won't let me be _

They graduate secondary school, miraculously, and Bucky's all set to go to college in the fall. Stevie, however, chose to dawdle with his applications, so he'd be taking the year off to work at his Pa's auto shop as a cashier and all-around tool fetching boy. Bucky could see the glint in Stevie's eyes every time he saw one of those Army recruitment posters, though, and thankfully, so could Peggy. She did everything in her power to discourage him, and this was the source of so many of their lovers spats. These rows typically worked in Bucky's favor, considering it was the only time that Stevie seemed to remember he existed. But Bucky reveled in it, as selfish as that was.

He knows it's one of those nights when a visibly drunk Steve Rogers tumbles in through his window at near two in the morning, effectively ruining any chances Bucky had at getting any sleep. But all that doesn't matter when Steve plops himself down in Bucky's lap, and crushes their lips together in a bruising kiss. Bucky allows himself to enjoy the kiss for a moment or two, and then he's pulling back and setting his hands on Stevie's knobby little shoulders to put some distance between their bodies.

"Hey, hey, Stevie. Slow down. Whats'a matter, huh? You and Pegs have a row again? You know she just wants what's best for ya, Stevie. Your art is serious an' should be taken seriously, you ain't got no damn business joinin' the army."

A wobbly finger moves forward and presses into the space that Stevie's lips had just been occupying, and there's a dulled fire in his eyes when Stevie speaks. "Don't wanna talk 'bout school. An' I  _ don't _ wanna talk about  _ her _ ." The finger moves downward, and soon there's an entire palm being pressed to Bucky's chest and he's being pushed to lie back down against the mattress. That fire in Stevie's gaze gets snuffed out and traded in for one of lust, and he straddles Bucky's hips with ease. "Don't wanna talk at all."

\------------------

Bucky opens him up nice and slow, despite all of Stevie's begging for him to  _ get the hell on with it _ . But he's grateful when Bucky's lubed up length finally pushes inside with only minimal resistance, and they both shudder when he's bottomed out. Their rhythm's a bit off kilter when they start, but as far as first times go, it's beautiful regardless of the slight stench of alcohol and the way Steve's lip wobbles when he comes.

They lie, entangled in each other's sweaty limbs, afterwards. Stevie's head is cradled on Bucky's chest, and his fingers are gently trailing over the vertebrae of Stevie's spine. The moonlight casts softly on their forms, Stevie's breathing steadily slowing down. His voice breaks through the sound barrier just as Bucky's about to drift off.

"Promise me we'll stay together. 'Till the end'a the line."

"'Till the end'a the line, Stevie, promise."

When Bucky wakes up in the morning, Stevie's gone, but Bucky feels something cool and metal on his finger. He looks down, and catches the glint of light reflecting off of Stevie's class ring, strategically placed on his ring finger. Stevie never said it explicitly, but Bucky just knows he's never going to see him again.

_ I've got your class ring _

_ That proved you cared _

_ And it still looks the same _

_ As when you gave it, dear _

_ The only thing different _

_ The only thing new _

_ I've got these little things _

_ She's got you _

Bucky catches wind of Stevie's life through movie reels and newspaper headlines. The crazy fucker'd actually gone and joined the army, god bless him, and through the miracle of some doctor named Erskine, was able to become the hunked out piece of muscle he'd always dreamed of being. The even give him a damn nickname and an, admittedly pretty tight and flattering, uniform.  _ Captain fuckin' America.  _

They've got him out there pushing war bonds and prancing around on a stage and Bucky  _ knows _ Stevie must hate it. Remembers how pissed he'd gotten when Bucky'd suggested he should settle for being a scrap metal collector with his little red wagon. He's not sure how Peggy must be dealing with all of this, but those thoughts are quickly quelled when he reads an article detailing how she and Howard Stark had formed some organization that worked closely with the Captain himself.  _ Good for them _ , he thinks bitterly, and makes no qualms about quickly disposing of the newspaper once he sees the photograph attached of the ever-happy looking couple.

He calls Morita, a buddy from college, and they drown Bucky's sorrow in some heavy foreign beer and whiskey. When Bucky eventually stumbles home in the wee hours of the morning, he digs the picture out of the trash and has a good cry. No one needs to know. 

_ I've got your memory _

_ Or, has it got me _

_ I really don't know _

_ But I know, it won't let me be _

And so here he is, fist curled tight around the embossed piece of cardboard paper in his hands. His cup of coffee has gone cold and long forgotten at his elbow, and he steps away in fear of shattering the thing

_ Together with their families, Steven Grant Rogers and Margaret "Peggy" Carter, request the honor of your presence at their wedding, Saturday the 22nd of September, Nineteen Thousand and Forty-Five at half past three o' clock in the afternoon. Reception to follow. _

The venue is some swanky place in Manhattan, not that it matters much to Bucky. There was no chance in hell he'd be at that wedding, as much as he'd wanted to see the spectacle that Stevie'd become in person. As much as he just wanted to see Stevie at all. He couldn't believe they'd gone from sandbox soulmates to… this. He felt dizzy just entertaining the thought.

The wedding came not far off from the end of the war, and Bucky could understand why. Stevie'd damn near died just about two hundred times, many occasions being a result of his stupidity and his need to be a fuckin' martyr. Bucky knew him all too well, despite the years of separation. He didn't blame Peggy for wanting to secure Stevie and have him settle down before he went off and actually got himself blown to smithereens or something. No, loving Stevie and wanting to keep him safe was something he could definitely understand. But wedging yourself between two best friends and effectively stealing away the love of someone else's life? Now that's just something Bucky would never forgive her for.

The invitation gets tossed in the bin, and Bucky feels the clouds finally open up and the sun cast warmly on his skin for the first time in years. He lifts his hand in the light, and stares as the stones in the ring shimmer and shine. 

Maybe she's got Stevie, but he's got himself. He drops the ring in a drawer and locks it away, along with the photos and the liquor and the memories. It's about time he got a move on anyway.

_ I've got your class ring _

_ That proved you cared _

_ And it still looks the same _

_ As when you gave it, dear _

_ The only thing different _

_ The only thing new _

_ I've got these little things _

_ She's got you _

**Author's Note:**

> comments and criticisms always appreciated. xx


End file.
